


Wake Up Call

by Toshua



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Drama, M/M, None - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 00:10:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/791782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toshua/pseuds/Toshua
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>852 Prospect Place has a utility problem.  Simon and Joel make a discover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wake Up Call

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally published in Beefstick and Lambchop II. At the time of publishing, I inserted a warning about CO2 poisioning. I won't go into a long spiel about the dangers of CO2 here. 

## Wake Up Call

by Toshua

Author's disclaimer: The Sentinel belongs to somebody else. Darn!

* * *

Wake Up Call 

Joel followed Simon up the sidewalk toward the apartment building containing Jim Ellison's apartment. He was almost running to keep up with the police captain's long legged pace. 

"Why are you so sure that something is wrong?" 

Simon stopped at the entry to the apartment building waiting for Joel to catch up and catch his breath. 

"Because Jim didn't call in, Sandburg is not at the University and neither one of them are answering the phone, cell or otherwise." Simon opened the door for his fellow officer and followed him through it, letting the fire proof door slam behind him. 

The building was silent and Simon paused, listening. True, it was mid-morning and the majority of the occupants would be working, but it was still to quiet. Joel pushed the button for the elevator. The door opened with a soft ping and the two detectives stepped inside, Joel pushing the button for three. He yawned, rubbing his forehead. 

"You know, I never realized how quiet this building is. You reckon this is one of the reasons Ellison likes it so?" Joel leaned against the wall, watching the light change from 1 to 2. 

"Could be. Remind me to ask him." Simon rubbed his eyes. "Damn, I'm sleepy all of a sudden. Wonder what brought that on?" 

The car slid to a halt on the third floor and they started down the hallway to 307. Simon leaned on the doorbell, yawning. He looked at Joel. "Didn't Jim complain that Blair was hiding a key out here somewhere?" 

Joel was leaning against the wall. "Yeah, I think so." The larger man pushed away from the wall, almost staggered. Simon caught his friend. 

He looked at the larger man, who was yawning again, trying to cover his face with his hands. Something clicked and he dragged Taggart toward the fire escape and out on the metal landing. 

"Breathe, Joel, breathe." The police captain was patting his pockets until he found his cell phone and punched in 911. 

Taggart watched the captain puzzled. "What's wrong?" His head began to clear. 

"Dispatch, Captain Banks. Roll fire department and paramedics to 827 Prospect Place. We've got an apartment building full of carbon monoxide. Contact city utilities and get them out here." He listened a second. "No, I don't know how many victims. Fire department will have to do a search." He slapped the phone closed, rubbing his pounding head. He took several deep breaths himself, then blocked open the fire escape door so fresh air could start flooding the hallway. 

Joel was rubbing his head, shaking it as things began to clear up. "How'd you know, Simon?" 

"Headache and suddenly sleepy, your yawning. I just wish I could remember if carbon monoxide is heavier or lighter than oxygen." 

"Heavier, like car exhaust." 

"Come on. We've got people in trouble." 

The two men hurried back down the hallway, banging on doors as they went, trying to rouse anyone. All the doors remained firmly closed. Simon tried Jim's door again and when it didn't budge he calmly shot the lock off and kicked it in, yelling Ellison's name. 

Joel was through first, heading straight for the balcony and pushing the doors open, creating a draft. Simon pushed open the French doors to Sandburg's bedroom, calling the grad student's name. The room was empty, the bed not slept in. Simon sighed in relief; at least Blair was safely somewhere else. 

He charged up the stairs, yelling Jim's name. The loft bedroom was striped in the morning light, sunbeams highlighting the yellow down comforter that was draped across Jim's back. He was on his side, back to Simon. 

Simon opened a window, pushing the cantilevered pane outward. "Jim! Wake up man!" He turned to grab the cop's shoulder, roll him over on his back and drag him to the open window. 

And froze. Tucked under Ellison's arm, spooned against Jim's stomach, comforter covering all but the curls, was Blair. The police captain was stunned, and for a heartbeat he didn't know what to do. Then training took over and he threw the comforter off the bed, scooped the younger man from Jim's embrace and started down the stairs. He met Joel halfway up. 

Taggart froze, mouth open in shock. He took the limp figure when Simon passed him to the larger man. 

"Don't ask." Simon growled. Then he turned back up the stairs to Jim. 

Joel looked at the pale face against his shoulder as he rushed the younger man out into the fresh air. Sandburg's lips were tinged with blue, while the rest of his face and upper body were flushed red, but he was breathing on his own. 

Taggart placed Sandburg on the balcony floor. The tapped the cold face. "Come on Blair, wake up." His fingers found the pulse point in Sandburg's neck; it was slow but steady. 

A loud thump on the open door announced the fire department and paramedics. "Out here!" Joel yelled. He waved the paramedic over. "There's another victim upstairs." 

The balcony got very small as the paramedic crowded in next to Blair and pulled an oxygen mask over the supine face. Taggart watched as Sandburg didn't respond. 

He could hear Simon's voice from upstairs, urging Jim to wake up. The paramedic's voice was an unintelligible mumble. 

The rattle of a stretcher being pulled by another paramedic as it entered the loft dragged Simon's attention from his detective. Jim was breathing with an oxygen mask on his face. the paramedic was checking the man's vitals the whole time, talking to Simon. 

"Your men are lucky, being on the top floor. They should recover pretty quickly. A couple on the bottom floor are dead, another couple is critical and we're still searching." 

The fireman kneeling on the floor next to the bed nodded. "Could have been a lot worse. One apartment is empty and several others are either night workers are out of town." 

Simon nodded, looked over the railing to see Taggart staring up at him. "How's Sandburg?" 

Joel shrugged. "Paramedics are with him. He's breathing. Jim?" 

"'Bout the same." He stepped aside as the fireman left the bedroom, down the stairs and out of the apartment. "Call the utility company, make sure they've got a team enroute. Then call the station, give whoever is in the office an update." 

Joel nodded as he headed for the phone on the coffee table. He stopped dialing as the paramedics carried Blair to the stretcher and placed him on it. The blue tinge was gone from around the full lips but he showed no sign of waking. The medic draped a heavy blanket over the boxer clad body and tucked it around him, adding two restraining straps. Then he was rolled through the open apartment door. 

Jim coughed. Simon turned to look at his friend as Jim's eyes blinked open and he coughed again, a deep raspy sound in his throat. He tried to bat the oxygen mask away. 

Simon sat on the edge of the bed, caught the frailing hand. "It's okay, Jim. Just breathe." 

The blue eyes finally focused on his captain. "Blair?" The voice whispered. "Where - ?" The eyes were searching the room and Simon knew that the sentinel must be listening for a known heartbeat. 

"He's alive. Relax." For a moment, Simon was uncomfortable with his position on Jim's bed, holding the cold hand, but mentally reprimanded himself. This was Jim, his friend, regardless of anything else. 

"How do you feel, detective?" The paramedic fastened a blood pressure cuff onto the bicep. 

"Sick." With that announcement, Jim rolled to his side, barely getting his head off the bed before he started gagging. The medic ripped the oxygen mask clear of Jim's face and was ready with a towel as Ellison emptied his stomach. 

"It's to be expected, detective. Carbon monoxide poisoning can make you pretty sick if you don't die first. How's the head?" The medic offered another towel for Jim to wipe his face with. He threw the other one in the trash can. 

Jim rolled back flat on the mattress. "Awful." 

"I'm going to get another stretcher up here. We need to get you to the hospital, put you in pressurized oxygen for a few hours to clean out your blood." The medic nodded to Simon as he climbed to his feet, pulling out his mobile radio. He left the two cops alone. 

Jim lay on the bed, hands pressed against his eyes, trying to hold the pounding in his skull down to something tolerable. "Simon," he grasped between clinched teeth. "Blair, where is he?" 

"The paramedics already took him downstairs to the ambulance. He was still on oxygen." 

"What happened?" Jim rolled to his side, forced his feet to the floor. He couldn't go any further without his head threatening to leave his shoulders. He held it between his hands, fingers pressing against his temples and moaned in agony. 

"I don't know. But the building is full of carbon monoxide. The city has a crew enroute. We've got two dead, two more critical and they're still searching the building. Plus you and Sandburg." 

Joel yelled up the stairs and Jim winced at the noise. "The other stretcher is here and the gas crew just pulled up." 

"I don't need a stretcher." Jim pushed off the bed and Simon grabbed the detective before he fell. He settled his friend back on the mattress. 

"Yeah, right." He grabbed Jim's robe, draped it across the bare shoulders. "Just let them do their jobs, Jim." 

"I gotta get to Blair." Jim groaned behind closed eyes. "He needs me." 

"The medics are taking good care of him. Just relax." He awkwardly patted the tense shoulder. Then he got out of the way as the medics charged back up the stairs, setting the collapsible stretcher on the floor. 

Simon trotted down the stairs and joined Taggart. Joel was trying to figure out how to secure the shattered lock so the apartment could be locked when everyone left. He wasn't having much luck. The big cop looked up at Simon's approach. 

"How's Jim?" 

"I think he'll be okay. Was Sandburg conscious when they took him out of here?" 

"No." They were interrupted by the medics carefully maneuvering the stretcher with Jim strapped to it down the narrow stairs. Jim's eyes were closed and the medics had replaced the oxygen mask. 

Joel touched the detective's arm. "We'll be right behind you, Jim." 

Jim's eyes opened and he batted the oxygen mask away again. "Did you shoot out the lock, Joel?" 

"No, Simon did." Joel grinned at the captain. 

Jim rolled his eyes then turned his head to look at his captain. "I should have guessed." He smiled, even if it was weak. "I'm holding you responsible." 

The medic slid the mask back over Jim's nose. "You've got to be still, Detective. It's hard enough to carry you without you moving around." 

Silence filled the apartment as the medics left. Simon stood in the hallway as the elevator doors opened and swallowed his friend. Then he stepped back into the apartment and watched as Joel took Blair's backpack and dumped the books on the dining room table, refilling it with the younger man's wallet, keys and glasses. After a moment he added the notebook and pen back and zippered it shut. 

The two cops exited, pulling the door behind them and securing it as best they could. They waited for the elevator. Joel shot a glance at his captain and friend, finally breaking the silence. 

"Did you know?" 

Simon shook his head, eyes watching the light for the car change. 

"Are you surprised?" 

"I don't know. You?" 

"I don't know either. Wonder how long - ?" 

"I don't know." The door slid open and they stepped in. "I wonder if Jim just didn't trust us enough to tell us or -" 

"Or he didn't trust us enough to keep his secret." Joel finished. Simon nodded. 

The elevator opened to controlled chaos. Three ambulances took the majority of the parking lot, flashing strobes from multiple blue and white police cars painted the scene in alternately red than white light. Two hook and ladder fire trucks blocked the fire escapes as fire men scurried about from floor to floor on the fire escapes. 

Curious onlookers blocked the sidewalks and a local media truck was trying to force its way around the emergency vehicles only to be stopped by a uniformed cop. 

Simon worked his way through the scurrying emergency workers, trying to stay out of the way and at the same time pretend he was in charge of the operation. He made it to the nearest ambulance, swinging around the open doors to peer inside. 

Jim was sitting up on the gurney, leaning toward his partner, holding Sandburg's hair out of his face while he emptied his stomach into a convenient bowl. Simon winced at the sound of Blair alternatively trying to catch a breath and retch. One arm was pressed against his stomach while the other hand gripped Jim's forearm. 

Blair collapsed back on the cot and the medic wiped his face, then placed the oxygen mask back on the flushed face. His grip on Jim's arm never eased. 

"How you feeling, Jim?" 

"Shaky, but I'll live." His eyes never left his partner's face and one hand brushed through the long curls. "Chief, you with me?" 

Blair nodded, eyes closed. "What happened?" he mumbled. 

Simon reached in and patted an exposed arm. "You gonna live, Sandburg?" 

"Don't know. Depends if this headache kills me or not." 

The medic spoke up. "We're taking them to the hospital and set them up in a pressure chamber for a few hours with pure oxygen. That'll flush out the last of the carbon monoxide. It's what you'd do to a diver with the bends, same treatment." 

Simon nodded. "I'll meet your there." 

Jim looked up from his study of his partner's face. "Can you grab us some clothes, Sir? And my wallet is on the dresser. Blair, where's your id?" 

"Backpack." The word was mumbled. "Where are we going?" 

"Hospital. We'll get you something for your head, mine too." 

"Okay." Blair didn't acknowledge anybody else and the medic tucked the blanket a little tighter around the almost nude body, adjusted the oxygen mask. 

"Kid must really be sick." Simon placed Blair's backpack next to the cot, helped to shut one door. 

"You have no idea, Simon." Jim waved at his friend and captain before lying down, face still turned toward his partner. 

Simon watched as the ambulance pulled away, lights flashing, but without a siren. He bet that Ellison had demanded no noise. 

Simon walked down the empty hospital corridor, his footsteps echoing around him. It was early evening and his day was finally winding down. He was mentally writing a report, making a list and trying to remember directions he'd gotten from the nurses station. There wasn't a lot of demand for the hospital's hyperbolic chamber so it was located one level off of the parking garage. The hallways needed painting and the lights were dim. It was also cold and Simon wondered briefly if the clothing he'd packed would be enough for a thin blooded anthropologist. 

Another turn around a corner with a hanging sign and he almost bumped into the pressurized door. The chamber wasn't very large. It could hold a half dozen people sitting along the sides of the curved walls, or two single bunks for two people lying down. Diving accidents weren't that common, but there were enough deep sea oil rigs on the coast that Cascade General kept a chamber prepared, just in case. 

Simon glanced through the multi-layered porthole, and almost smiled. In the short time that the detective and observer had been confined to the chamber, Jim had moved the mattresses from the bunks to the floor and had made a nest for them with multiple blankets and pillows. He was lying on his side, head propped on his hand, watching his companion sleep, his fingers twirling a lock of chestnut hair. Blair was curled into Jim's chest, covered with several blankets. 

Jim looked up when Simon tapped on the glass, then reached for the intercom button, straining above his head to find it. 

"Afternoon, Simon." 

"Jim. How're you feeling?" 

"Still have a headache, but overall, not too bad. Blair's still a little rocky. The doctor wants him to sleep as much as he can. Did you find out what happened?" 

"City utilities are still investigating. At first glance it looks like a new furnace in the basement wasn't vented properly. We'll know more tomorrow." Simon held up the small duffel bag. "Brought you and Sandburg clothes." 

"There's an airlock next to the door. Just put them in there and cycle it through. Thanks." 

"How much longer before they'll cut you loose?" 

Jim shook his head. "A nurse is taking blood every hour. When the oxygen level is right, they'll let us out, probably a couple more hours." 

Blair turned over on his back and after a moment, mumbled Jim's name. He stretched under the blankets. 

"Right here, Chief." Jim leaned down and touched the long hair with his nose, nuzzled an eyebrow, then glanced back at Simon. He cleared his throat and almost looked embarrassed. "Guess you were surprised this morning." 

Simon glanced away from the glass for a second before meeting the iceberg blue eyes. "Jim, I'd be the last one to make any comments about your private life, but you could have told me." 

"What do you want to hear? Hey, Simon, did you know that I'm sleeping with my partner? Or Simon, how do you feel about gay cops?" 

Simon tapped the glass, interrupting Ellison before the cop got on a roll. "How long have you been together?" 

"Couple of months." Jim grinned. "He was so pissed after Lila Hopson that he practically threw me down on the sofa and demanded some type of explanation about flirting with him, leading him on, then climbing into bed with her. He's a 'put up or shut up' kind of guy." 

Blair's hand appeared from under the blanket, reached up and patted Jim's cheek. "And don't you forget it." He arched his neck and looked at Simon upside down. "Hello, Captain." Then he flopped over on his stomach and raised up on his elbows. "How did you know we were in trouble this morning?" 

"No phone calls, no answers, no nothing. Knew something had to be wrong. Glad I got there in time." 

"So are we." Blair yawned, scratched his stubbled chin. "I must be feeling better, I'm hungry. You bring us any food, Simon?" 

"Sorry, didn't think of it." Simon was watching with frank interest. Jim was stroking the long curls, starting at the top of Sandburg's head, sliding through the long hair down the bare back and under the blanket. After the fifth stroke, Blair reached up and caught the wandering hand, tucked it under his arm with a bright smile. 

"Don't start something you can't finish, lover. You might embarrass the captain." Blair glanced through the window again. "Hey Simon, you okay with this?" 

"Do I have a choice?" 

"Nope." Blair grinned at his partner again. "Who else knows?" 

"Just Taggart. You might have to talk to him. He's a little shell shocked. 

Blair nodded. "And you?" 

"I just wish you two had confided with me. I need to know things like this. I can't protect you if I don't know." 

"And if you don't know, you can't be compromised." Jim looked into his captain's dark eyes. "You know how police stations are, Simon. Being openly gay makes you a target. Even with all the anti-hate and harassment laws, it still happens. When we're there, we're working and our private lives are on a shelf. When we leave, then it's nobody's business but ours." 

Simon couldn't deny the truth Jim had spoken. He dropped his head against the cool glass. "What do you want from me?" 

"Just like Jim's Sentinel abilities, Simon. It's between us unless we say otherwise. I'll talk to Joel. He'll be cool with it, I'm sure." 

Simon nodded. He straightened his tall frame, placed the bag of clothes into the airlock and pressed the button that would cycle it. "Give me a call when they release you and I'll pick you up. You'll need a place to stay tonight while they fix your building. You're welcome to crash at my place." 

Both men started to protest but Simon held up his hand. "I insist. I haven't had company in a long time except for Daryl. I'll fix dinner. Baked halibut sound okay?" 

"Sure, Simon. If you want." Jim nodded. 

"And if it's not an inconvenience." Blair settled back on a pillow, hands under his chin. "We'll bring the wine." 

"Good enough. Call me." Simon flipped off the intercom and turned away, mentally making another list. Clean sheets on the guest bed, towels in the guest bedroom, pick up some halibut from the market---.   


* * *

End

 


End file.
